Traces
by AdAbolendam
Summary: Coulson opened his mouth to tell them that this whole thing had been a ridiculous mistake and was met with two pairs of pleading eyes that glued him to his seat. Who were these women? Why did they seem to care about him so much? *Spoilers through "Identity and Change." AU after that.*
1. Missing Pieces

***Spoilers for 4x16, "What If..."***

 **He remembers her name, but not who she is. All Phil Coulson has left of his life before the Framework are a few disjointed memories and dreams that do not make any sense. And two strangers who refuse to give up on him.**

* * *

 **I.**

" _Daisy…?"_

The word tumbled from his lips like a phrase from a foreign language he had long-since forgotten. As soon as he heard himself speak, he wished he could have taken it back. The name was unfamiliar on his tongue and sounded almost obscene in his ears, like he had broken some unspoken rule.

What was he doing, listening to crazy stories from strangers who barged into his classroom and broke into his car?

This was a test. It had to be.

It was Hydra.

After the Inhuman student had been taken from his class, they were systematically searching through the boy's contacts and weeding out anyone who may have harbored him. He was not going to fall into their trap. He was not some upstart, Resistance collaborator. He was loyal to Hydra.

But that other girl _knew_ things…

 _"It's a magical place."_

"Ugh," he moaned, resting his head on the steering wheel.

What was happening to him?

He almost yelped when he felt a hand on his arm. Somehow in the last minute, the girl in the backseat had climbed over the centre console and perched in the passenger's seat of his car.

"It's okay, Coulson," she assured him.

She was looking at him with those earnest, dark eyes again, and he wanted more than anything to believe her.

"Who are you?" He croaked.

"You just said it," she replied. "I'm Daisy. Daisy Johnson. I'm your friend. I know things don't make sense right now, but I promise you, they will."

He closed his eyes and saw the girl named Daisy in his head.

She was younger in this dim memory.

Her face was fuller and there were no hollow circles under her eyes.

But those eyes… her eyes were the same. Dark, sincere and filled with tears, they begged him to come back from wherever he had been. She stood over him, calling his name again and again. When he finally responded, she collapsed onto his chest and pressed her lips to his folded hands.

The memory faded and another took its place.

She stood in front of him in a dimly-lit room, looking stricken, but trying to hold her pain inside.

 _"You're having one hell of a day,"_ he heard himself say.

Daisy nodded and the dammed tears broke through her barriers. She stepped into his arms and he held her, letting her cry, as he tried to convince her that everything was going to be alright.

He could almost smell the metallic tang of blood in the room juxtaposed with the soft, floral fragrance of her hair.

Then it was gone.

He was in another darkened room in another time.

Daisy was older now. Her hair was shorter. Whatever had happened in those intervening years, the stress had taken its toll. She was dressed in black and the rosy colour had disappeared from her cheeks.

Dancing flecks of firelight reflected in those brown eyes.

 _"We'll find her. I promise."_

Coulson felt a twinge in his gut at those words. He could not remember who "her" was or why it was so important that they find her, but he had to believe that Daisy was right. He watched himself place a hand on her shoulder as they talked out of the room together.

"Coulson?"

He gasped, looking at the occupant of his vehicle with unconcealed awe.

"You're remembering, aren't you?" Daisy asked.

"I don't know," he moaned. "I don't know what this is. Why do I know you? Why can't I remember who you are?"

Daisy gave him a tentative smile.

"I'll tell you everything, I promise," she said. "Do you trust me?"

Coulson appraised her with a side-long glance.

There was no reason why he should. She was probably a Hydra spy, or worse, some subversive trying to recruit him to the Resistance or some other lost cause.

But he did.

Somehow, she knew that he did.

"Okay," Daisy said. "Let's go."

"Go where?" He asked, even though he was already turning the key in the ignition.

"A place where it's safe. For the moment anyway," Daisy qualified. "There's someone else you need to meet."

 **II.**

"Coulson!" The girl with the English accent cried out when they entered the apartment. "Daisy, you did it!"

Coulson found himself nearly strangled by the stranger who had barged into his classroom earlier when she launched herself at him and hugged him around the neck. He patted her on the back uneasily and felt his cheeks flush as she pulled away.

"It's so good to have you back, Sir!"

The girl beamed at him unreservedly and Coulson tried not to squirm at the awkwardness of the situation.

"Simmons," Daisy interrupted them. "He doesn't remember."

Simmons's face fell.

"Oh."

She stepped back and exchanged a sad smile with Daisy.

Why did he feel so terrible? It was like he was letting them down. But he had not done anything wrong!

"You said you would give me answers," he said to Daisy. "What am I doing here?"

Simmons's bit her lower lip.

"There's no easy way to explain that, Sir," she hedged.

"Look, I have been very cooperative with you both so far," he said. "You showed up flashing a SHIELD ID badge in my office today, looking like you have been living under a bridge. You," he continued, turning to Daisy. "Broke into my car—

"Please, it's not like it was Lola," Daisy scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"Who the hell is Lola?" Coulson yelled.

"Okay, everyone," Simmons interrupted. "Let's just calm down and take a breath. It's been a very exhausting day for all of us. Why don't we all just sit down? I'll make us some tea and we will discuss our next move."

Daisy and Coulson retired to opposite ends of the couch, each casting furtive glances at the other.

"You seriously don't remember Lola?" Daisy muttered.

Coulson was still glowering at her when Simmons returned and placed a steaming mug on the table beside him.

"One sugar, no milk, just how you like it," she recited.

"Okay, how do you know that?" Coulson demanded.

Simmons shrank back and Daisy propped her leg up on the couch as she turned to face him.

"Coulson," she started, capturing his attention. "Back in the car, you remembered something about me. You knew my name. Has that ever happened to you before?"

He shook his head. He had experienced some weird things in his life, but nothing as incomprehensible as what had happened in the last few hours.

"Sir, earlier, when I asked you if there were certain memories that seemed out-of-place, you knew what I was talking about, didn't you?" Simmons asked.

Coulson hesitated.

Everyone had things in their mind that did not quite make sense.

 _Nothing_ had made sense after the attack in Massachusetts. Every day, he, along with the rest of the people of America and the global community, had to rationalize how their world had been infiltrated and turned upside-down by an alien threat. He knew people he had considered friends disappear into Hydra's black bags for conspiracy to commit treason. A math teacher at a rival school blew himself up in a car bomb less than a mile from the Triskelion, apparently his intended target.

Of all of the crazy thoughts that had passed through peoples' brains these days, a few errant memories he could not pin down were by far the most innocuous.

"Do you ever see anything that seems familiar, even though it shouldn't?" Simmons pressed.

He thought back to the tattered folder in his desk, filled with clippings from all of the stories that had seemed too important not to keep. The postcard from Tahiti. The calendar page from the month of May with the cherry red corvette stamped on it.

"What about dreams, Coulson?" Daisy asked. "Do you ever have any dreams that remind you of another time or place?"

Coulson almost snapped at her.

Of course he did!

They were dreams! Everyone had dreams in places that were not real.

He opened his mouth to tell them that this whole thing had been a ridiculous mistake and was met with two pairs of pleading eyes that glued him to his seat.

Who _were_ these women? Why did they seem to care about him so much?

As disconcerting as it was, it was also comforting. Strange and familiar at the same time. How was that possible?

"I have this recurring dream," he muttered reluctantly. "It's not the same every time. But it's in the same place, with the same people."

He tried not to notice the girls exchange a hopeful look as he continued his narration.

"It's a dark maze, some kind of building with exposed brick walls, and lots of glass and steel. I feel like would get lost in it, but I always seem to know where I am going. There is usually someone walking beside me. It's a woman, but I don't know who she is. I can never see her face."

 _"I always miss her when I wake up,"_ he thought.

"Yeah?" Daisy encouraged. "What else?"

He shrugged.

"I don't know," he admitted. "It's different every time. I feel like I have a purpose there. Like when I teach, but different somehow. There are people there who respect me. People in lab coats or people with uniforms. They are…"

A rush of heat surged from his gut to his brain and left him as quickly as it had come. It left him cold and beads of perspiration broke out all over his body.

"They're you," he whispered. "Both of you."

The woman called Simmons wiped her face and sniffed.

"Yes, Sir," she said. "It's us."

 _"Jemma,"_ he remembered. _"Her name is 'Jemma.'"_

"Yes," Jemma agreed through a broken laugh, and he realized he had spoken her name out loud.

Daisy scooted across the couch and pulled him into a half-hug. After a moment's hesitation, Jemma sat on the arm of the couch next to him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and planted a kiss on his temple.

Although still somewhat unnerved, Coulson placed an arm around Daisy and found one of Jemma's hands with his own. She squeezed it tight between lithe fingers.

The identity of these women was still a mystery to him, but at least he knew that, whoever they were, they did not mean him any harm.

They might have even loved him.

 **III.**

" _Don't get me wrong, I am very happy you're both alive. Truly. And I realize you were trying to save the team. But what you did today? That was not your call. Don't you ever pull a stunt like that again! We would_ hate _to lose you, Jemma."_

 _"You want her, you go through me!"_

 _"I miss her too. I'm having a hard time accepting all of it."_

 _"Daisy, just come home safe."_

He heard his own voice in his head. He was talking about the women on either side of him. As they sat there, tangled in silence on a couch in a strange apartment, memories assaulted Coulson in soundbites and snapshots.

Jemma being pulled out of a well in a stone floor, coughing and covered with gravel. Daisy hugging him, while he stood motionless, stunned at the unsolicited outpouring of affection.

Each remembrance was burdened with a sense of fear and dread. Was he always this terrified for their safety? Why? What role had he played in their lives?

If he did not know any better, he would have said they were his.

His children.

But really, _did_ he know better? How the hell could he have forgotten his own kids?

Oh God. Jemma.

He had sold her out!

The minute she had left his office, he had reported her as a subversive.

Coulson felt a sick swell of vomit in the back of his throat.

His own daughter! He had turned in a member of his own family!

 _"She's fine_ , _"_ he convinced himself. _"She's not with Hydra. She's safe."_

There was something that did not quite fit with this theory that they were his children. Even though both of the girls certainly seemed like family, there was no escaping the fact that neither of them looked a thing like him. Jemma had a British accent, after all. Even if they had been adopted, it did not explain why they all had different last names.

That fact did not make the guilt of his betrayal weigh on him any less.

Even though he felt like a jackass doing it, he had to ask.

"Um, guys?"

Jemma and Daisy pulled back.

"Sorry, sir," Jemma said, looking abashed.

"It's—it's not that, it's fine, J-Jemma," he stammered. "I just… I can't be your father, can I?"

Jemma smiled, but shook her head. Daisy remained conspicuously silent.

"I'm afraid not," Jemma said. "You're our friend. Our leader."

"You are family, Coulson," Daisy added quietly. "Just not in the way people normally think of."

She met his confused look with a half-smile that did not reach her eyes. Coulson felt like he should have reassured her of something, but he had no idea what that would have been.

"Leader of what?" He asked. "You said earlier that I was the Director of SHIELD. That's just not possible. Every leader of that agency was tried and executed for treason. Was this some sort of resistance movement? Is that why I can't remember anything? Did Hydra capture me and wipe my memories?"

"It's a lot more complicated than that," Daisy said.

"Then explain it!" He snapped.

Both of the girls flinched and he immediately regretted his outburst.

"I'm sorry," he backtracked, running a hand over his forehead. "It's just been a very strange day."

"You want the short version?" Daisy asked rhetorically. "In the real world, you are the leader of SHIELD. You and four members of our team were kidnapped and forced into this virtual reality by a mad scientist and a possessed android. Simmons and I came into rescue you. We showed up in this bizarro world where Ward is somehow still alive, Fitz is playing Kevorkian with Inhumans, and May let that demonic hell-child in Bahrain live, ushering in Hydra as the Fourth Reich."

"No Daisy, don't hold anything back," Simmons quipped. "Wouldn't to ease him into it."

Coulson's head pivoted, looking at each of the women in turn, trying to gauge their expressions. In spite of the deluge of nonsensical bullshit Daisy had just spouted, both of them seemed to be deadly serious.

"Are you both insane?" He asked. "How am I supposed to believe any of that? That this world isn't real? That I am the Director of SHIELD? It doesn't make any sense! SHIELD is the reason that Inhumans are even a threat! I think I'd remember if I were part of that!"

"Really?" Jemma demanded. "Then, tell me, 'Mr. Coulson,' who was the founder of SHIELD?"

"Peggy Carter and Howard Stark," he answered automatically.

"What branch of the government did Peggy Carter work for before SHIELD?" she continued.

"The Strategic Scientific Reserve."

"What was the codename of the SSR hub that Carter converted into the first SHIELD base?"

"That's classified."

Jemma smirked and Coulson's throat went dry.

 _What was he saying?_

"I teach American history!" He protested. "It's my job to know as much as possible about the events that led up to the current… situation."

"Really?" Daisy taunted, from his other side. "Is it your 'job' to keep classified secrets that only SHIELD personnel would know?"

 _"This is not real,"_ he told himself. _"No, it_ is _real. This is reality. You are Philip Coulson. You teach high school. You are loyal to Hydra. You are not, nor have you ever been an Agent of SHIELD."_

"Sir?" Jemma said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I know this is a lot to accept. You don't have to understand everything right now. But you know us. You remember us, on some level at least. You know we would never lie to you."

He understood what she was not saying. He could not accept one truth without the other. And there was no way he could forget the things he remembered about them.

For as far back as he could recall, there had been a persistent ache inside of him, a phantom pain in his chest where something was missing. He had learned to ignore it, to push it down, just so he could function and get on with his day. All of his best efforts were not enough to keep the emptiness from gnawing at him. Now, for the first time, the pain was a little more bearable. These two familiar strangers made him more complete.

There would be no going back.

But he had no idea how to move forward.

When his attention returned to the present, Jemma and Daisy were arguing over who would sleep on the couch.

"You said Ward wasn't coming back tonight!" Jemma protested.

"Well, that doesn't mean I want to get in that bed," Daisy replied. "I won't be able to sleep without imaging him creeping up on me."

Coulson realized he was exhausted. He could have fallen over and just collapsed on the floor. He supposed he could have driven home, but looking at the two girls fighting like teenagers, he knew he was not going anywhere.

Whatever was really going on, he needed them as much as they needed him.

"I'll take the bed," he interrupted.

Daisy and Jemma looked over at him, slack-jawed.

"Are you sure?" Jemma asked.

"Sure," he shrugged. "I don't know who 'Ward' is, and any bed has got to be more comfortable than sleeping on the floor."

Jemma cut Daisy off before she had a chance to retort.

"Thank you, Sir."

"For what?"

"For staying," she said. "For trusting us."

"You're welcome, Jemma," he muttered. "I should tell you… earlier today, when you were in my office, I reported you to Hydra. I'm so sorry. I didn't know."

"I know."

"You do?"

"It wasn't you, Coulson," she said simply.

He had to look away from those sympathetic eyes.

She was wrong.

It was him.

He knew exactly what he was doing and he had done it anyway. Whoever this person was they were trying to save, he was a better man than he was. Coulson just hoped he was worth all of the trouble they were going through.

In the end, he just nodded and toward the bedroom.

But there was one more thing that was bothering him that he had to know.

"Jemma?" He asked. "If I'm not your father, why do I remember you accusing me of leaving you and your mom in the Cotswolds for a bunch of American prostitutes? Plural?"

From the corner of the living room, Daisy let out a noise that was somewhere between a hiccup and a snort. Jemma's lower-lip started quivering. In a matter of seconds, both women were gasping with laughter, tears pouring down their faces.

Coulson shook his head and left them to their hysterical fit.

Whatever the story was there, it could wait until the morning.


	2. Changed and Unchangeable

**I.**

"So what's our play?"

"Don't remember inviting you to this briefing, Mr. Coulson," Jeffrey Mace replied.

The Inhuman Director of SHIELD, Jemma, and Grant Ward were clustered around a smartpad in the Director's office, reviewing possible scenarios for Daisy's extraction from the Triskelion.

"You didn't," Coulson replied. "But, like I said before, you need all the help you can get. And I think I did alright in the field yesterday."

Jemma gave him a small, encouraging smile, while the other two exchanged reluctant nods.

"We know she's being held in The Doctor's lab," Ward explained. "Highest clearest levels are needed to get past security. Now I can get in, but getting her out…"

"Is damned near impossible, it looks like," Jemma muttered, eyeing the layout on the smartpad.

Ward nodded in agreement.

"Especially with May guarding her," he said.

Coulson blinked. For some reason, that information put him at ease.

It did not make any sense. Why would that reassure him?

"Who's May?" He asked.

Jemma handed him the smartpad reluctantly, watching his expression with unguarded curiosity. He took the pad and looked at the readout. A petite, Asian woman glared back at him from the screen.

 **Melinda Q. May: Clearance Level 7**

"I know this woman," he breathed.

"You do?" Jemma exclaimed.

"Yeah," he said. "It's been awhile, but I remember seeing her picture after the Cambridge Incident. She was linked with it somehow, but the press never gave any details. I thought she was with SHIELD."

Jemma's face fell while he spoke. She crossed her arms and looked down at the floor.

Before he had a chance to ask what he had done wrong this time, Mace broke in.

"She was SHIELD," he explained. "Defected to Hydra after the Incident. She was the one who brought Katya Belakov back from Bahrain. Unleashed her on an unsuspecting populace."

Coulson did not know why, but that explanation seemed wrong, like one of those news articles he collected in his file. There was a piece missing. Or something was left just out-of-frame.

"Yeah, and she's been doing her damndest to make up for it ever since," Ward growled. "If she is the one guarding Skye, she's going to be impossible to extract."

Coulson took another glance at the picture on the screen. Melinda May's eyes were cold and her lips seemed to snarl at the photographer.

"She looks scary," he agreed.

"I'm sorry," Jemma said. Coulson was startled to see that her eyes were wet with tears. "I can't—I just need a moment. Excuse me."

Jemma jogged out of the room, leaving the three men behind her speechless.

Coulson found her in the kitchen, draining a glass of water in gulps with tears running down her face.

"Jemma?" He asked.

The girl jerked at the sound of his voice. She put the glass down on a counter and steadied herself against it with both hands.

"That Hydra agent, May, you knew her, didn't you?"

Jemma sniffed and wiped her cheeks with her shirtsleeves before turning to face him.

"I know her," she answered. "So do you."

"I'm sorry," he said, for what seemed like the fortieth time in the last day. "I don't remember."

"She's your best friend!" Jemma yelled. "You two would do _anything_ for each other! The only reason she even joined our team in the first place was to watch out for you! You dragged us all over the world trying to find her after she had been taken! How can you not remember that? How could anyone forget something like that?"

Coulson shrank back, feeling the now-familiar stab of guilt for letting her and Daisy down. Didn't they understand? It wasn't his fault! He wanted to remember! Of course, he wanted to remember someone like that!

"Jemma, I—

"This world changed your memories, but how could it change your feelings?" Jemma demanded. Tears were pouring down her face now and her voice was shaking, but she could not stop. "How could a world made of 1s and 0s change who you are? How could it make him forget me?"

The realization hit him like a punch in the chest.

Poor Jemma.

Not eight hours ago, she had watched the man she loved murder a woman in cold-blood. Whoever The Doctor was before, it was not the man she had come to rescue. Neither was he, Coulson supposed. None of them were who they were supposed to be, and Jemma and Daisy were the only ones who knew the difference. They must have felt like they were going crazy. He knew a little something about what that was like.

Jemma slid down the counter and sat with her knees curled up in her folded arms.

Coulson groaned as he took a seat across from her.

"I must be pretty disappointing, huh?" He asked. "I'm not who you expected to find when you came here."

Jemma gave him a tight-lipped smile through her tears.

"It's not you who's a disappointment, Sir," she said at last. "You've always been there for us. Daisy and I should have planned better. We should have known."

Coulson put a hand on her knee.

"So, we'll do better together," he promised. "We'll get Daisy back and figure this all out. We can only take this one step at a time."

Jemma took a shaky breath and nodded.

"Get Daisy back," she repeated. "Right."

"Now, this Melinda May," he began. "She's supposed to be watching Daisy. You think she's a threat to her?"

"I would have never said so before, but I honestly don't know now, Sir," Jemma admitted. "She's more than capable of doing her harm, if she wanted to."

"But you said we were best friends?" Coulson asked. "You think she would listen to me?"

Jemma's smile did not reach her eyes.

"If anyone could reach her, it's you," she said.

Coulson heard what she was not saying. She had lost her hope when The Doctor fired that shot. No one could be heard in this dark place. No one would listen.

"Then that's what I'll have to do," he said.

Jemma did not reply. She concentrated on mopping the tears from her cheeks with the sodden, tattered sleeves of her shirt. Coulson reached across and wiped the remaining moisture away with a careful brush of his hand.

"I'll get Daisy back, Jemma," he promised.

These girls had risked everything to break him out of this digital prison. The least he could do was return the favour.

 **II.**

"Ward, what's your position?" Jemma asked.

Over their coms, Coulson heard nothing but static. He turned around to face Jemma from his seat in the passenger side of the van. She adjusted a dial on the jerry-rigged circuit board in front of her.

"Ward, come in!" She repeated. "Damnit, Ward!"

Coulson winced as she slapped the electronic display with a frustrated sigh.

"What happened?" He asked.

"I don't know," Jemma said. "I can't tell if something went wrong with these antiquated coms or if he cut the signal."

"Why would he do that?" Coulson asked. "You think he was captured?"

"That would be the best case scenario," Jemma muttered.

Coulson chewed on the inside of his cheek. If Ward was compromised, they were screwed. He was supposed to extract Daisy and call Coulson in if they ran into May. Ward was the only one with clearance in the Triskelion. Without him, they had no choice but to wait.

Jemma crawled through the narrow space between the seats and fell onto the driver's side.

"How long do we wait before we head back to the base to give the Director the good news?"

Jemma started to reply, but then something caught her attention from the side window.

"Maybe not that long," she said.

Two figures were running toward them in the dark. From their silhouettes, Coulson could see that the one closest was a girl with long hair. She was limping.

Daisy.

The other figure was gaining on her.

"May," Jemma whispered.

Coulson swallowed and reached for the gun in his holster to steady himself.

"I've got this, Jemma," he said.

"Sir, are you—

They watched as Daisy was overtaken by her pursuer. In a motion so quick, he almost missed it, Coulson saw the woman come from behind, swipe Daisy's legs from under her, and drag her to her feet in a chokehold.

Coulson was out of the van before he had a chance to think.

"Let her go!"

He pointed the gun at the entangled pair and walked toward them at a steady pace. The woman named May drew her own weapon and pointed it at Daisy's head.

"May," Daisy choked. "Ple—please don't do this."

"Listen to her, Agent May!" Coulson commanded.

He did not recognize his own voice. His hands did not waver on his grip on the gun, and even though he should have been panicked, there was nothing but carefully-controlled adrenaline pumping through his veins.

May's face twisted into a smirk.

"I know you," she spat. "You're the teacher. The subversive that eluded capture yesterday. Phil Something?"

Coulson blinked as his vision clouded.

 _"Not now,"_ he thought. _"Don't do this now."_

May disappeared from his sight. She was not in front of him anymore. She sat beside him in a cherry red corvette. They were in an alley somewhere. Sunlight flooded the crowded street in front of them.

May looked every bit as stern as she did in her Hydra ID photo, but he wasn't afraid now. She did not seem intimidating. She seemed almost sad.

 _"I know you, Phil."_ She said. _"And I knew you before…"_

He shook his head and she was in front of him again, not holding a gun, but sitting across from him in a darkened office.

 _"May, nostalgia's fine,"_ he heard his voice tell her. _"But then life happens. It's time to deal with reality."_

She clenched her jaw, hiding unshed tears behind a mask of determination.

 _"Phil, please..."_

She was so sad.

Was she always like this? Why?

 _"You're not allowed to be gone, not yet."_

The scene had shifted again. This time, she spoke with her back to him, as if he was not there. They were in the cargo bay of a quinjet. She talked to him, but did not acknowledge that he was standing right beside her. His skin crawled with frustration as he tried and failed to get her attention.

 _"What the hell are we waiting for?"_ she asked.

When she finally looked up at him, his heart froze in his chest. He did not think he ever seen anything as beautiful and broken as her face at that moment.

"Yes, it's me, May," Coulson said aloud.

The sound of his voice brought him back to the present. He looked up at the pair in front of him in shock. What was happening? Why was May holding a gun to Daisy's head?

This was all wrong.

"I don't care who you are," May growled. "You're not getting her. And reinforcements will be on the way soon."

Coulson squeezed his eyes shut, trying to make sense of the situation.

"You're not looking so good," May goaded.

He opened his eyes and looked back at her. It was still there behind her anger. That unquenchable sadness.

Ward said that the Cambridge Incident was her fault. She was doing everything she could to put things right again. But it would never be enough.

Coulson maintained eye-contact and placed his gun on the ground.

"This won't fix anything, May," he said calmly. "You can kill every Inhuman in the world and it won't change what has happened."

She scowled and pressed her gun into Daisy's temple. Coulson frowned as Daisy's face twisted in pain.

"You don't know what you're talking about," May said.

"I know that you don't want to do this. Not to D—Skye," he corrected himself. "She's your friend, your colleague. You care about her."

"She's a traitor!"

"She's a scared kid!" Coulson retorted. "She looks up to you, and you fed her to the wolves!"

May pressed her lips together and shook her head.

"I'm doing what _has_ to be done," she whispered.

Coulson sensed her hesitation. He took a few careful steps forward with his hands up, palms facing towards her.

"Not like this," he murmured. "Please, May. Let the girl go."

May's eyes widened a fraction and her expression lost all of its venom. Daisy pitched forward to the ground as May's grip on her slackened. Coulson kept his eyes trained her as he caught Daisy and pulled her into his arms.

He cradled her head against him, watching May to see what she would do next.

She seemed to have lost control of her actions. The gun that has been trained on Daisy hung limply in her hand.

"May?" He asked.

"Go," she said, at last.

Coulson nodded and limped with Daisy back to the van. When he turned back to look at May, she was gone.


	3. Loyalties

**A little something from May's POV...**

* * *

 **I.**

" _You have to let the girl go, Melinda. Let the girl go."_

May frowned and drained the remainder of her drink. She slammed the glass down with unchecked rancor and stared the empty vessel down as if it could provide her with answers.

 _"Melinda, let the girl go."_

She groaned and slapped her palm against an overhead cabinet in frustration.

Why would that voice not leave her alone? That wasn't even what he had said! She was remembering it wrong. That teacher, Phil, never even knew her first name. Why did she remember him calling her "Melinda?"

He should not have known her name at all. Damn subversives probably had a whole file on her. She had certainly garnered enough of a reputation with Hydra to put her on their radar.

 _"Melinda…"_

"Shut up!" She yelled.

With a swipe of her hand, she sent the glass sliding across the slick marble and crashing into the sink.

"Is this a bad time?"

May whipped around to see the smirking face of Grant Ward.

"What the hell are you doing here?" She asked.

Ward grinned and leaned against the doorframe, clearly enjoying the scene unfolding before him.

"I thought we should talk," he replied. "Get our stories straight about what happened."

"There's nothing to get straight," May snapped. "I know it was you. You broke Skye out of that lab tonight."

"And when you caught up to her, you let her go," Ward retorted.

May's nails bit into the flesh of her palm as she curled her hand into a fist.

"That wasn't my fault," she growled.

"This wouldn't have been a problem at all, if you'd held up your end of the bargain," Ward pointed out.

May ignored him, concentrating on searching for the remainder of her scotch in the overhead cabinet. Her fingertips brushed a bottle in the back, just out of reach. Ward sauntered over to where she stood. With exaggerated slowness, he reached for the liquor, standing close enough to graze her side with his hip.

Her senses filled with his smell: leather and perspiration, with a hint of aftershave.

May had no idea why he was with Skye. Grant Ward was so in love with himself that any relationship with another person seemed redundant.

She swiped the bottle out of his hand and grabbed another glass.

Ward was undeterred at her hostility.

"The deal was, I feed you intel about the Resistance, you keep Skye's Inhuman status off of The Doctor's radar."

She poured a liberal helping of scotch into the glass and took a long draught before she answered.

"Well, that was before your _girlfriend_ became a liability," she said. "I did what I had to do. Besides, it's not like your 'intel' has yielded any real results."

"I've given you the names of over a dozen subversives," he argued.

"Low-level operatives at most," she scoffed.

May eyed him over the rim of her glass.

"Why did you break Skye out of the lab tonight, Ward?"

"Maintaining my cover with the Resistance," he answered smoothly.

His gaze was steady and confident as he answered, and there was a hint of smugness to his tone.

That was how May knew he was lying. He always overplayed his cool exterior when he was full of shit. She had seen it enough times.

"When you came to me about Skye's status, you assured me that she didn't know what she was," May said. "You said she was loyal to Hydra. I get it. She's cute. Enthusiastic. I can see why you like her. It was a good deal for me too. Having a Hydra operative in the Resistance? It was too good an opportunity to pass up."

"You like her too," he goaded. "Admit it. You love having a little protégé that wants to grow up to be just like the infamous Agent May."

May clenched the glass in her hand to stop herself from breaking his jaw. She wasn't an idiot. Skye respected her, but she did not idolize her. No one did. No one should.

"The girl I saw in that lab tonight was defiant and determined," May said. "She has no allegiance to Hydra or to me. She knows exactly what she is. You know it too. You're not loyal to Hydra. You've joined _them._ "

Ward's expression did not change.

"How long have you been playing me, Ward?" She demanded.

His face broke out into a full smile.

"Not as long as you'd think, Melinda," he answered.

May felt the hairs stand up at the nape of her neck.

 _"Melinda."_

Her name echoed in the silence between them. Ward wasn't allowed to call her that. No one was anymore.

"I've always been upfront about my motives," he said. "Skye comes first. My allegiances are otherwise pretty flexible. If you've been played at all, it's because you let yourself be played."

She barely noticed the light pop the glass made as it cracked in her hand.

"You're so damn desperate to make amends for that one mistake, you'd crawl into bed with anyone who promised you results," Ward mocked, eyeing her suggestively. "Well, metaphorically, at least."

The glass shattered. Ignoring the cuts and blood on her hand, May grabbed the largest piece and held the jagged edge to Ward's jugular, determined to wipe that self-satisfied grin off his face for good.

"Wouldn't do that, May," he said. She felt a flush of pride at the note of panic in his voice.

"Why not?" She hissed. "You're a traitor. A subversive. If I brought your body to the Director, she'd give me a metal."

"I think you overestimate your standing with the Madame," he said. "You let an Inhuman subversive escape Hydra custody. You're going to have a lot of explaining to do on that count. It got to you, didn't it? Seeing your helpless pupil tortured by The Doctor?"

 _"Let the girl go."_

"No!" She yelled, as much at the memory as at Ward. "It wasn't my fault! They did something to me! Your Resistance friend, Phil. He knew… what did he do to me?"

"Coulson?" Ward almost laughed. "The teacher? He doesn't know anything, May. He's just some idealistic, new recruit. I think you're losing it, sweetheart."

May cut a slash across his cheek with the shard of glass.

"Get out," she spat. "I don't ever want to see you again."

Ward put a hand over the cut, waiting until she had lowered the makeshift weapon enough for him to slide past her, unmolested.

"You will though."

May eyed him over her shoulder, seriously reconsidering letting him leave alive.

"You won't be safe at Hydra anymore," he told her. "Not after tonight. The Resistance is the only place that will accept a traitor like you, May."

She stared at him until she heard her front door open.

"I'll be seeing you soon," he called out, letting the door slam behind him.

May's ears rang in the oppressive silence of her house.

 _"Melinda, let the girl go."_

"Coulson," May muttered to the voice in her head. "Phil Coulson. What the hell did you do to me?"

 **II.**

"Coulson… Coulson? Phil!"

Coulson blinked and took off his glasses to clean off some imaginary film before replacing them and looking at Daisy.

"Where'd you go?" She asked hoarsely.

"Nowhere," he lied. He brought his hand to her knee to reassure her.

Daisy did not need to worry about him right now. She was the one lying on a stretcher, in lieu of a proper hospital bed, in the Resistance's "medical bay." Simmons had stitched up the gash in her lip and popped her dislocated shoulder into place, but the sprained ankle would take some time to heal. Not to mention the psychological trauma of being experimented on by Doctor Mengele Jr.

"Come on," she prodded, poking him on the shoulder. "Talk to me. Distract me. These pain-killers aren't making much of a dent. Guess the Resistance couldn't afford to spring for the good stuff."

Coulson gave her a half-smile.

"What happened back there, Daisy?" He asked.

"Fitz is what happened," she muttered, picking at her blanket. "Hydra found out I'm an Inhuman and a traitor. And Fitz just stood there watching as his thugs walked into my cell and beat me until I couldn't fight anymore. I forgot what it felt like to be that helpless."

He reached for her hand and gave it a tight squeeze.

"We should have gotten to you sooner," he apologized.

"You came as soon as you could."

She was drifting, detached from her own voiced consolations. Coulson saw her eyes drift past him. She was going back to that lab, watching the man she considered a friend leave her to be tortured. All because of who she was.

"Daisy," he said gently. "What happened when—when Agent May let you go?"

Daisy frowned.

"What do you mean?"

Coulson's face burned. He wasn't sure what he meant. The whole situation was so bizarre.

"I mean, why did she do it?" He asked. "I'm glad she did, but I don't understand why. One minute she looked like she was going to shoot you and the next…"

Daisy's smile turned into a wince as the pain that reminded her that her lip was being held together by stitches and medical adhesive.

"I guess you got to her," she said simply.

"I have a few memories of her, just images really," he muttered. "She hasn't ever been a very happy person, has she?"

"She's had her moments," Daisy evaded.

He did not want to press the subject, especially since the woman in question had just chased Daisy across Hydra grounds and held her in a chokehold with a gun to her head, but there was something he needed to know. He just was not sure how to ask it.

"Jemma said that May and I were friends in other world," he hedged.

"Friends, huh?" Daisy said, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah, I guess that's one word for it."

"What's another word for it?" He pressed.

Daisy sighed and hugged her arms to her chest.

"I don't know that there is a word for what you and May are," she said. "Or if there is, you haven't made it public. All I know is, you have a lot of friends, Coulson, but there aren't many of them that you look at the way you look at her. I mean, you let her drive Lola, so…"

"Seriously," Coulson asked. "Who is Lola?"

Daisy was interrupted half-snort by Simmons breezing into the medical bay.

"How are you feeling, Daisy?" She asked. Even Coulson could detect a tremor in her voice underneath the professional tone she had adopted.

"About the same," Daisy said. "Shoulder's feeling a little better."

Jemma spared a cursory glance at Coulson before asking the question that had clearly been plaguing her since they hauled Daisy into the van.

"It was Fitz, wasn't it?" She whispered. "He did this to you, didn't he?"

"No," Daisy answered tonelessly. "He just watched as it happened. When he knew I couldn't move, he came in to interrogate me."

Coulson watched Jemma's face crumple.

"I'm sorry," she gasped. She bent over the stretcher and buried her head in Daisy's chest.

Coulson opened and closed his hands helplessly, unable to do anything but watch as tears formed in Daisy's eyes and cascaded down her cheeks. Jemma's murmured apologies were barely audible through her sobs.

He felt sick for everything that had happened to them and everything he did not understand. What the hell good was he to this stupid cause if he could not stop them from getting hurt?

Daisy rubbed Jemma's back in slow circles.

"It's not your fault," she insisted.

"I _trusted_ him," Jemma said, raising her head. "I never would have believed he could have hurt anyone. Especially one of us."

"We don't know what happened to him in here, Jemma," Daisy said. "Maybe an Inhuman killed his dog or something."

Coulson was slowly getting used to Daisy's habit of using humor to defuse tension, but Jemma was having none of it.

"He's a monster," she moaned. "The man I love... he's gone."

Daisy's brow creased.

"Maybe not," she said.

"What do you mean?"

Daisy shifted uncomfortably under Jemma and Coulson's curious stares.

"AIDA's here," Daisy began.

"That android that you said imprisoned us here?" Coulson pipped up. "Yeah, we saw her. She's the head of Hydra."

Daisy nodded slowly.

"Well, she and Fitz are… close," she said haltingly.

Jemma drew back and folded her arms.

"How close?"

"Fitz was questioning me, right?" Daisy said. "Well, I think I was starting to get through to him. I told him about you. I said a few things that triggered something in him. How inseparable you two were all through the Academy and SciOps. How he dove through the portal to bring you back. He didn't want to believe me, but I saw something, Jemma. He _heard_ me."

"Really?" She asked, wiping her nose.

"Really," Daisy affirmed. "But then AIDA came in. She… touched him. And he was gone again. It's like she has him hypnotized or something."

"Why would she do that?" Coulson asked.

"I don't know," Daisy admitted. "He left the room and she gave me this whole spiel about how she was just 'following her directive' to keep everyone in the Framework."

"Oh bollocks!" Jemma exclaimed. "How is keeping Fitz as her personal boy toy following any bloody directive?"

"It's not," Daisy said. "I think it's safe to say that AIDA has evolved. She's becoming more human. Or wants to be."

Coulson's temples were throbbing.

He always thought that if and when his suspicions about Hydra came to light, all of those disjointed pieces would fall into place and everything would make sense. Somehow, things just kept getting more complicated.

He tuned out the girls' voices as they speculated about their robot overlord's motives, and watched the agents mill around on other side medical bay's glass doors. Agent Burrows jogged by at a clipped pace.

Something was up.

"I'll be right back," he muttered.

Jemma and Daisy paused in their conversation just long enough to acknowledge that he had spoken and the door swung shut behind him.

Coulson followed Burrows around the corner until he ran into Mace outside of the briefing room. He hung back in the shadows, watching the exchange.

"Sir," Burrows greeted him. "One of our contacts on the outside was approached by a Hydra operative an hour ago."

Mace frowned and his spine straightened.

"Was our man captured?" He asked.

"No, sir," Burrows said. "The operative claims to have defected. She said she wanted to be taken in."

"Well, she wouldn't be the first," Mace said.

"I know, but this is a high ranking agent," Burrows emphasized. "It's Agent Melinda May!"

Coulson's stomach lurched.

"May!" Mace exclaimed. "Where is she? I should be the one to talk to her."

"She's in interrogation, but I don't think it'll much good, sir," Burrows said. "She insists she'll only talk to one person: Phil Coulson."

"Coulson?" Mace repeated.

"Yeah?" Coulson pipped up, stepping into view.

Mace groaned.

"How is it you keep popping up everywhere?"

He shrugged and shot the Director his best sheepish grin.

"I've always had impeccable timing," he demurred. "So… should I talk to her?"

As he eyed the woman in handcuffs on the other side of the one way glass, Coulson was beginning to rethink volunteering for this encounter. Her wrists and ankles were shackled, but he got the feeling that would not stop her from doing some serious damage to him if she had the inclination. This woman was lethal. He could feel it as much as see it in her lithe, muscular frame and unblinking stare.

"Five minutes," Mace told him. "You sit in the chair closest to the door. She tries anything, you get out. I'll take care of the rest."

May closed her eyes and leaned back a couple of inches in the metal chair.

Swallowing his trepidation, Coulson turned to Mace.

"If you don't mind, Director, I'd like to talk to her without an audience."

"I _do_ mind," he countered. "This is the highest ranking field operative at Hydra. Any information she gives us could be the key to taking down their entire organization. And I'm not about to let a civilian—

"Sorry, sir, but isn't everyone here a civilian?" Coulson challenged. "This isn't a government-sanctioned organization. We're volunteers. And I'm volunteering to help with this. You have coms and video feed on the room, right?"

Mace grunted.

"Then you'll get the information you need," Coulson promised.

"What about you?" Mace asked. "You have no idea what she is capable of."

"I think I do," he said. "And I'll take the risk."

Mace nodded and held up his hands.

"Fine, but after five minutes, you're out of there."

"Understood."

He waited until Mace's footsteps had faded from earshot before opening the interrogation room door.

When May turned to him, Coulson's fear evaporated and was replaced by something else entirely.

"Oh God!" He exclaimed. "May, what happened to you?"

The brow above her left eye was swollen and bruised. She had a nasty cut on her cheek and a trail of dried blood stained her cheek below her ear.

"Parting gift from my former employers," she deadpanned. "A squad was sent to my house to bring me in for an unscheduled debrief after I let Skye escape. I declined the invitation. After that, I had nowhere else to go."

Some instinctual part of him wanted to draw closer, to see her injuries and make sure she was okay. He could not imagine his concern would be well-received though. He stifled the urge and sat across from her instead, pressing his palms together between his knees.

May gave him a once-over and smirked.

"Ward wasn't kidding," she mused. "You really are just some idealistic, new recruit."

"Ward?" Coulson repeated.

May's smile disappeared.

"Your friend was a plant," she said bluntly. "But he chose his side, and got me burned in the process. I suppose I should thank him for giving me enough useful intel to contact the Resistance."

Coulson was speechless. At this point, he should be used to playing catch-up, but his head was still spinning.

"I—I'm sorry," he stammered. "Not that Ward left Hydra, but that you got hurt."

"I don't want an apology," May snapped. "I want an explanation. What you said back there with Skye, you _did_ something to me. What was it?"

Coulson's mouth fell open and he shrugged.

"I just said the words I thought you needed to hear," he said honestly.

May scowled and continued to glare. She seemed to be waging some sort of mental war, oblivious to the fact that he was not a combatant. If anything, he was even more confused than she was.

"What do you think I did, May?"

Her eyes fell to the table in front of him.

"When I tried to sleep after, I…

"You had the dreams, didn't you?" He asked, eagerly.

"What dreams?" She demanded.

"You did!" Coulson exclaimed. "You saw it! Those dreams of a dark building? Kind of like this one?"

"No, it wasn't like this," she qualified. "It was nicer. It didn't feel abandoned like this place. It was full of people. Some of them I recognized. Skye was there. And Doctor Fitz. And that subversive, the one that the Director was chasing."

"Jemma Simmons."

"Simmons," May rolled the name around in her mouth. "What was that, Coulson? Why do I feel like it was real?"

He shook his head, grinning. Now he knew how Daisy and Jemma had felt when he started to remember. It was like watching someone come back from the dead.

"What else, May?"

She sighed.

"There was someone beside me," she said. "I couldn't see his face, but I think…I think he was you."

Coulson wanted to reach across the table and take her hands in his, but he did not want to press his luck. He settled for squeezing his palms together between his knees to stop them from shaking.

"Yeah," he said at last. "I think it was too."

"Coulson," she said, dropping any pretense of self-control. "What the hell is going on?"


	4. Trust

**Just a short update for now. More to follow soon!**

* * *

A tap rattled the glass of the mirror and Phil Coulson left May alone in the featureless room with more questions than answers. She twisted the chain that bound her hands in cuffs to channel her frustration.

In less than a day, she had gone from a loyal Hydra agent to a fugitive, throwing in her hand with the Resistance. And for what?

She had frozen in action. She had let the girl go. All because of a simple phrase this school teacher had uttered in the middle of a standoff.

May supposed she was due for a mental breakdown.

She had not shed a tear since the Cambridge episode nearly a decade before, and had been running on hatred and adrenaline ever since. She always thought that when the inevitable eventually occurred, it would be by crossing the line: taking someone out that was in the wrong place at the wrong time, or just pushing an interrogation suspect too far. She never could have predicted it would be because she let a suspect escape.

Even if that suspect was a colleague. Maybe even a friend.

Coulson returned to the room twenty minutes later in the company Skye and the woman he called "Simmons." Simmons pushed Skye into the room in a wheelchair and parked her on the far side of the table, well out of striking range.

Skye's lip was busted and she wore the stoic mask of someone holding back intense physical pain.

It hurt May to look at her.

She focused on Coulson instead, shooting him a raised eyebrow that needed no translation.

"I've brought them here because they have something to tell you," he explained, taking a seat at the side of the table. "Hear them out, and try to keep an open mind."

Simmons started talking and Skye filled in the gaps, avoiding looking at May directly.

By the time they were done, May knew she had made a horrible mistake in surrendering herself to the Resistance.

There people were worse than traitors: they were delusional.

Her disbelief was palpable. She did not even try to hide it.

"I know it sounds crazy," Simmons started.

"No, coming here was crazy," May countered. "This is insane."

"How do you explain the dreams then, May?" Coulson prompted, gently.

"They're just dreams, Coulson!" She snapped. "I've seen pictures of all of you. I _worked_ with Skye. It's not unusual to put familiar faces in dreams."

The light in his eyes faded and he sagged in his chair, deflated. Skye rested her forehead on her hand and Simmons looked up at the ceiling, blinking back tears.

May felt the air go out of the room as she dashed all of their hopes and she found it hard to breathe.

They all cared so much.

Why?

She certainly had not done anything to earn their devotion. They had more than just cause to revile her. Even if what they said was true, that they were all prisoners trapped in a virtual reality, why would they want her to return with them? She was a monster. A necessary evil. She had no illusions about that.

"In the 'real world,'" she said, emphasizing the term with thinly-veiled sarcasm, "Who was I? You said I was an Agent of SHIELD, but who was I to you?"

 _"Why do you care?"_ She asked silently. _"Why do you want me?"_

"You were my S.O.," Skye said. The girl finally looked at her head-on, all traces of uncertainty gone from her expression. "You taught me how to fire an automatic and not to drop my left shoulder when throwing a punch."

May blinked and something flashed in her mind. An image of a woman with wide eyes and bangs in a shooting range. May recognized her own hand on the girl's shoulder, correcting her stance with a touch.

"You're my friend and mentor," Simmons added. "You've always protected us when we couldn't defend ourselves."

She heard gunfire and the revving of an engine. Bullets impacted on steel and tyres ground on gravel.

 _"Move! Now!"_ She heard herself shout. Simmons, Skye, and a boy she vaguely recognized looked up in surprise and ran toward her.

"You're one of us, May," Skye said. "We're not leaving here without you."

The compassion in her co-worker's eyes was physically painful. May did not deserve her kindness. Even if it was lunacy, Skye believed it. She believed that a friend had allowed her to be captured and tortured, and she still loved her.

May hoped she was some sort of saint this other world they spoke of. Because if she was anything like the person she was here, they should leave her here to rot.

Coulson had not said anything.

He regarded her silently, with folded hands and a curious expression.

"What about you, Coulson?" She asked. "Why are you here to save me? Did I give you a kidney?"

He actually smiled a little and shook his head.

"I… don't know, really," he admitted. "I was trapped here just like you. But I remember some things and I think… I think I trust you. More than I trust anyone else."

"How can you?" She whispered. "We were in a standoff less than twelve hours ago. I could have killed you."

Coulson shrugged.

"But you didn't," he pointed out. "You wouldn't. Not ever."

May had no idea how he could possibly be so sure of that fact, but she found herself believing him.

Skye cleared her throat and looked at the two of them pointedly. A flush of pink colored Coulson's ears and May leaned as far back in her chair as the handcuffs would allow.

"Okay," she said. "So saying I believe you, what's your plan to get out of here?"

Skye licked her dry lips and leaned forward.

"That's what I haven't got a chance to tell you guys yet," she confided. "Radcliffe was held in the room next to mine in the lab. He told me about a backdoor to get out of this place."

"Really?" Simmons hissed.

Skye nodded.

"It's not going to be easy," she added. "And you can bet that AIDA's going to be guarding it."

"Who?" May asked.

"Madame Hydra," Simmons clarified.

May almost laughed.

"The Director of Hydra?" She scoffed. "You want to take down the Director of Hydra?"

"Don't you?" Skye challenged.

That brought May up short.

Did she?

The woman had practically ordered her execution today. She had seen first-hand the lengths she was willing to go to to eliminate the Inhuman threat. May had never been a fan of her methods, but she could not argue with the results. After seeing what had been done to Skye in the name of law and order though, she saw those methods in a new light. Those weren't just Inhumans that were being detained and tortured: they were people. Good, bad, ugly and complicated, capable of compassion and malice. And the Director had lumped them into one category and sought out their extinction.

Yes, May wanted to take her down.

"May," Coulson said. "Whether this world is real or not, Hydra needs to be stopped. And what if it is true?"

She looked up and saw the hopeful faces of the two women pleading with her silently.

"What if we could all go back to a place where Cambridge or none of this Hydra stuff ever happened?" Coulson asked. "A place where we are all together and safe?"

"Well, relatively safe," Simmons broke in. "There's still the matter of—

Skye cut her off with a quick head shake.

"Okay, _relatively_ safe," Coulson amended.

It sounded too good to be true, which meant it almost definitely was. But they were not wrong. Hydra needed to be stopped. If she could have a hand in taking them down, and if it would make the three of them happy, she'd do it. She owed them that much.

"So, is it just the four of us?" She asked. "Or are any of the other people walking around here prisoners as well?"

"There are three others," Simmons explained. "One of them is in Hydra as well."

"Is one of them your boyfriend?" May asked Skye.

If Ward was coming along for the ride, she was out. She could live in a virtual prison if it meant never having to see his smug face again.

"No," Skye replied flatly. "In our world, Ward's dead."

May raised her eyebrows.

"Don't worry," Skye rushed to assure her. "He kinda had it coming."

"I don't doubt it," she answered.

May looked at the three of them and made the craziest decision of what had already been the most asinine 24 hours of her life.

"Alright," she decided. "I'm in. What's the plan?"

* * *

One floor above them, Grant Ward sat in a desk chair in the security room.

He turned up the volume on the video feed as the voices grew more hushed. Four figures huddled around a metal table in the interrogation room, mapping out a plan that would eliminate Hydra and take Skye out of his life forever.

His knuckles popped in tight fists and he bit down on the inside of his cheek so hard that he tasted blood.

* * *

 **Next up: A heart-to-heart with Madame Hydra.**


	5. Regrets

**I.**

Coulson, Jemma, and Daisy clutched at their seatbelts as May took a sharp turn off of the dirt road and brought the van to a halt behind a grove of cedars, a short distance from a log cabin. The metallic zip of the emergency brake was followed by a click when Daisy unfastened the clasp on her seatbelt and put her hand on the door handle.

"Okay," she announced. "Give me three minutes to dismantle the alarm. Then we've got a narrow window to engage the Backdoor before AIDA shows up."

Coulson frowned and turned around in his seat to face her.

"Are you sure you can't deactivate the alarm without AIDA knowing about it?" He asked.

"Maybe," Daisy said dubiously. "But not with this ancient tech."

She pulled a square, grey box out of her hoodie pocket and eyed it with disdain.

"It'll get us in, but she'll know the minute security is breeched."

Coulson frowned and nodded.

"Hey," May chimed in. "It'll be fine. Madame Hydra better show up or Mace and Mack will be pretty disappointed."

Somewhere out of sight, on the other side of the fortified cabin that "Madame Hydra" and The Doctor used as a personal retreat, Director Mace and Mack were parked in another van, waiting for AIDA to make her entrance. It had not been easy to convince them to come along. In fact, compared to Coulson and May, it had been almost impossible.

When Daisy and Jemma confronted Mace about their virtual reality situation, he was adamant that they had both lost their marbles. He was not about to believe that all of his fellow agents' hard work and sacrifice had amounted to playing a video game with no respawn option. Mack had politely, but very firmly, refused to believe anything Daisy and Simmons had to say on the matter. He realized the implications. If this world was not real, then neither was his daughter. That was not something he was prepared to accept. He had kept a cautious distance from the two women over the week that had followed.

Daisy claimed that she would drag the two of them through the Backdoor by herself if she had to, but Coulson did not believe it would come to that. He had caught signs of the suspicion, the growing doubts, in the faces of the Director and Mack. He had worn that same expression enough times to recognize it.

They were putting the pieces together and finding that they did not all connect.

Mace's pep speeches at briefings came with a little less heart than they used to. There was an unmistakable sadness in Mack's eyes when he played with his daughter now.

Coulson wondered if they were being cruel to take them away from this world, even if it was an illusion. It was Daisy that assuaged his misgivings, assuring him that what was on the other side of the looking glass was well-worth everything they were leaving behind.

In the end, it was May that got through to them, using a similar argument that Coulson had used with her. This was a chance to take Madame Hydra down, she explained. If there was any truth in what Daisy and Simmons claimed, this would be the proof that they needed. If not, the head of Hydra would still be eliminated. It was a win-win.

"Alright," Daisy tried once again. "Wait til I get to the cabin and then start the clock."

She slammed her door behind her before anyone else could raise another protest.

Coulson raised his binoculars and watched as Daisy darted into his field of vision, closing in on the cabin.

"Are you sure it's a good idea sending her in alone?" He asked, not taking his eyes away from the lenses.

"She'll be fine, Sir," Jemma replied, from the backseat. "She's done this kind of thing loads of times before."

"Of course she'll be fine," May added. "I trained her. Apparently."

Through his magnified field of vision, Coulson watched Daisy extract the grey box and attach it to a few wires she pulled from the cabin's security system. He relaxed his grip on the binoculars and let them rest in his lap.

"What if The Doc-Fitz doesn't come with AIDA when she shows up, Jemma?" He asked.

"He will," she said simply. "He has to."

He frowned and fiddled with the binoculars. In his periphery, he saw May shooting him a questioning glance.

"Go ahead and spit it out, Coulson," she commanded.

"What?"

"Whatever it is you're not saying."

He did not respond right away. There was no good way to say what he was thinking. It was better if he kept it to himself. Of course, May had no intention of leaving it at that. In the short week he had known her, Coulson had discovered she had an eerie knack for compelling him to talk with only a few words or gestures.

Her eyes were boring a hole into his temple.

"Okay, let's just say, for argument's sake, that he doesn't show up," he relented. "What happens then?"

"We send an emergency alert from AIDA's phone," Jemma recited. "We planned for this."

"And in the meantime, we wait for AIDA and The Doctor to send back up?" Coulson asked.

"I'm sure 'The Patriot' and I can handle it, if it comes to it," May said.

"But is it really worth it?" Coulson pressed. He turned around and faced the ashen-faced woman in the backseat. "Jemma, is he really worth risking your life over? After all he's done?"

Jemma opened her mouth to reply, but no words came out. She twisted her hands in her lap and looked away from him.

"I was," May broke in quietly.

"What?" Coulson asked.

"You risked your life to bring me back," she said. "How is Doctor Fitz any different?"

"You didn't hurt our—!" He broke off. "You didn't hurt Jemma or Daisy."

He felt his face grow hot when he realized what he almost said out loud.

It was a strange world and an even stranger situation. So Coulson felt he could be excused for starting to see Daisy and Jemma as his own kids. Given the circumstances, he did not even think it was impermissible to think of May as a parental figure to them as well. He needed to protect them. Whether she would admit or not, he knew May felt the same way.

May raised an eyebrow, but tactfully let his slip up go without remark.

"No, I just let Daisy get hurt," she said softly. "Same as The Doctor. If you can forgive me, you should give him a chance too."

She was right. He knew she was right.

But it was not the same.

May was May. The woman with the sad eyes who walked beside him in the few memories he had from the other place. Coulson did not remember the man Jemma was in love with. He only knew the monster that reduced her to tears and let Daisy get pummeled within an inch of her life.

"I don't remember Fitz, but I know The Doctor," May said, as if voicing his own thoughts. "He's hard and cruel, but you don't know what he's been through here. Between that sadistic automaton he calls a father and AIDA pulling his strings, he hasn't had a chance in hell. If I can be saved, so can he."

Coulson nodded and swallowed.

"No one will get hurt, Coulson," May promised him. "I won't let them."

From the backseat, Jemma smiled for the first time in days.

"Guys," Daisy's voice chimed from a handheld radio in the center console. "Alarm's down. I'm going in."

Jemma leaned forward and grabbed the radio.

"Right behind you!" She replied.

"We've got about five minutes until AIDA arrives," May reminded them. "Everyone, stay sharp!"

She nodded at Coulson and they slipped out of the van, hands moving toward their side arms. Just a few more minutes and this would all be like a bad dream.

 **II.**

It took them three precious minutes to locate the device that would serve as the Backdoor out of the Framework. The cabin was rather ornately appointed for an outdoor retreat, but there was nothing that stood out as overtly technical. Nothing that could be used to transport them back to their world.

Having given up on looking in the obvious places, Coulson was running a hand over the wall in the study when his fingers caught on a gap in the wood paneling right above the desk. A hidden compartment.

"Guys!" He shouted. "I think I've got something!"

What he had though, he had no idea.

From the small cabinet, he removed what looked like a red headset with wires protruding from the band around the top.

"What is this?" He asked, when the others rushed into the room.

"It's a device that monitors brain activity and provides feedback," Jemma explained in a rush. "Fitz designed these to allow us to access the Framework."

"But this one has to be Radcliffe's Backdoor," Daisy realized. "It was supposed to act as a failsafe in case something went wrong and he couldn't wake himself up. My guess is something that allows you to transport your consciousness back to the real world."

"Your guess?" May repeated.

"No, it makes sense!" Jemma insisted. "This acclimates your conscious mind to the transition and 'downloads' you into your real body! This is it!"

"Okay," Coulson said, examining the device in his hands. "So who wants to go first?"

"We've still got to get Mack and Mace," Daisy reminded him.

"And Fitz," Jemma added.

"No one needs to go anywhere."

The four agents whirled around to see AIDA blocking the door.

Coulson's eyes peered behind her and darted to the window.

Where were Mace and Mack? They were supposed to close in as soon as she arrived!

"Why do you want to leave?" AIDA asked.

Coulson had to clench his jaw to keep from shuddering at the sound of her voice.

He had seen Madame Hydra in interviews on the news before. She had always come off as direct but personable, even likable. The woman standing in front of him had cast aside the facade of her humanity. Her cadence was stilted, her questioning almost childlike. Now that he knew what she was, there was no mistaking what she really was: a machine.

When AIDA only received four sets of glares as a reply, she continued.

"Don't you understand what the Framework is?" She asked.

"Purgatory," May answered.

"Hell," Jemma snapped.

" _Total Recall_ meets _1984_?" Daisy quipped.

"It's a cure for death," AIDA insisted. That calm, grotesque smile never left her lips. "It was all there in the Darkhold. You'll never age here. Never get sick."

"And our bodies?" Daisy asked. "We know what happens to them if we don't get back. They'll give out."

"Your bodies don't matter. Reality is just a perception. You perceive this world to be real, therefore it is."

Coulson's hand moved towards his gun holster. This conversation was making him sick. AIDA sounded like she was reading from some bad dystopian screenplay. The world had gone to hell and the robots were in charge. It would have been hilarious if it were not so tragically true.

"If you surrender to the laws of the Framework," she continued. "You can live in this world forever. A world where your biggest regrets have all been erased."

"Bullshit," Daisy spat. "You've rigged this world! How does erasing one of our regrets lead to this Orwellian Matrix where you just _happen_ to be pulling all of the strings?"

 _"Good job, Daisy,"_ Coulson thought. _"Keep her talking."_

Any time they could buy would be time for Mack and Mace to catch up with them and blow this possessed mannequin to kingdom come. Where _were_ they?

"One small change can have a multitude of consequences, Agent Johnson," AIDA explained. "Agent May wished she'd never shot Katya Belakov in Bahrain. Agent Coulson wanted a simpler life wherein he did not have to fear for his family's safety."

His knees struggled to support his weight. It took all of his self-control to keep from collapsing right then and there.

Was that true? Was he really so afraid for all of them that he would throw his whole life away? Throw all of his memories of them away?

No fear was worth that.

"And me?" Daisy challenged AIDA. "What the hell did I regret so much that I ended up stuck waking up next to Grant Ward?"

AIDA's features molded into a mask of sympathy.

"You regretted losing someone who loved you exactly as you are," she replied.

"Yeah," Daisy agreed. "Lincoln Campbell. I regretted losing him! Not the Nazi we kept in lockdown in the basement for six months!"

AIDA shook her head with a smile.

"You might have regretted losing Lincoln," she said. "But you never believed you deserved his love. Not after he sacrificed himself for you. There was only one person who was twisted enough to love you exactly for who you perceive yourself to be. Only one person you believed you deserved."

Daisy grimaced.

"That's not true," she rumbled.

"Of course it is," AIDA replied. "It's all there in your brain. Dr. Radcliffe and I only gave you what you wanted."

"And I suppose I regretted being alive?" Jemma taunted. "Is that why I woke up in a mass grave?"

Coulson saw something undeniably human flicker across AIDA's face before it recovered into a parody of conciliatory grief. He saw doubt.

"No, Jemma," AIDA said. "You had no regrets. Your lack of contrition for past actions was incompatible with the Framework. I'm afraid there was no place for you here."

Jemma had clearly had enough.

"Oh bollocks!" She yelled. "You didn't kill me because I didn't have any regrets! I was dead because you wanted Fitz for yourself! You wanted to feel like a real girl so you _used_ him! Is that why his father's here? Because Fitz did _not_ regret not having him in his life! His father is just another tool to you, isn't he? Another piece of code you manipulated so this world and everyone in it would be under your thumb!"

"She's right," Daisy added softly. "This has nothing to do with our regrets. I may not have thought I deserved Lincoln, but I sure as hell don't deserve Ward. And I _have_ people who love me for who I am. I didn't need this world or Ward to replace them."

Standing firmly on Daisy's opposite side, Coulson saw May's mouth twitch into a grin. In spite of the direness of the situation, he found himself smiling too.

"Ophelia, what are they talking about?"

AIDA's face went blank and she turned slowly to face the source of the voice. Coulson stopped breathing. The Doctor had arrived.

* * *

 **Thanks for the feedback, guys! One more chapter to go!**


	6. The Final Piece

**Time for the final showdown!**

* * *

 **I.**

Doctor Leopold Fitz's shoes clicked on the polished hardwood of the hallway. He was shorter than Coulson had imagined he'd be. Dressed in a sharp black suit, with his hair slicked down, Coulson had the impression of a boy playing dress-up. He did not let that thought put him off guard, though. He knew what The Doctor was capable of.

"Leopold," AIDA replied smoothly. "I thought I told you I would handle the situation."

Doctor Fitz sized up the four agents with a mixture of disgust and curiosity before turning his attention back to the woman he called "Ophelia."

"I received an emergency call from the cabin's hard-line," he explained. "I couldn't hear anything but heavy breathing. It sounded like you were in trouble."

"Oops," Daisy said. Her smug smile and crossed arms told AIDA and Doctor Fitz they'd been fooled.

"What are they talking about, Ophelia?" Fitz repeated.

Jemma licked her lips and took a tentative step forward.

"Fitz, you—

He held up a finger, not even sparing a glance in her direction.

"Quiet!" He said. His eyes were locked on the woman who held them captive, the woman he thought he loved. "I want to hear it from you."

"It's like I told you, Leopold," AIDA soothed him. "They've come from the other world. They're here to take me back. They want to imprison me again."

"Then what was all that about you and Dr. Radcliffe creating a world without regrets?" He asked softly. "About you manipulating me? My father—

"They're confused, Leopold," she interrupted. "Something must have happened to their minds when they crossed over into our world."

"The only thing that happened to us is that you used us as pawns in this twisted game of yours," Jemma shouted. "Don't you understand? It won't work! You'll never be anything but a rogue piece of malfunctioning software, you bitch!"

AIDA turned to look at Jemma slowly, shooting her a glare like barbed projectiles.

Coulson's hand jumped towards his gun.

"What are you talking about?" Fitz demanded from Jemma.

Jemma responded with a tight smile.

"Ask her," she said.

Fitz's touch on her arm brought AIDA's focus away from Jemma.

"What does she mean, Ophelia?" He asked.

AIDA looked down his hand, appearing to weigh her options. Coulson gripped the gun in his holster, ready to pull it out at the slightest provocation. AIDA was backed into a corner. There was no telling what lengths she would go to to keep this world intact.

"In the other world," he said. "You told me they held you prisoner. What did you mean by that?"

AIDA did not answer him.

"Ophelia?" He tried again, his voice breaking on the second syllable. "What _were_ you in the other world?"

She looked up at him and smiled sadly. It was the most genuine expression Coulson had seen her make. If he did not know better, he would have thought she was about to cry.

"I was your shield, Leopold," she whispered. "I did everything I was ordered to do. It was everyone else who broke protocol."

Fitz's mouth fell open and he stumbled away from her, snatching his hand back like it was scalded.

"Fitz…" Jemma pleaded.

For the first time, Doctor Fitz looked Jemma in the eye.

"Simmons?" He asked. "Jem…Jemma… Oh…"

She nodded vehemently, smiling through a fresh flood of tears.

"Yes, Fitz," she said. "I'm here."

Fitz almost fell backward into the doorframe. He leaned against the solid wood in a half-crouch with his hands against his knees, sucking down air like he was drowning.

"What—what did you do to me?" He gasped out, staring up at AIDA. "You m-made me… Oh God… _who_ did you turn me into?!"

And there it was.

He was back.

Leo Fitz. Not "The Doctor," but the brilliant, shy scientist Coulson recruited when he was little more than a kid.

Coulson remembered.

A young man with tousled, blonde hair waking up in a hospital bed, confused and unable to speak. Coulson saw himself jump to his feet and ease the boy back against the pillows, promising him that everything would be okay. He would make sure of that.

A distraught scientist, whose disheveled appearance spoke of countless nights without sleep and days of constant stress. He turned away from Coulson and groaned in anguish when he told him he was going to make the trip to see Jemma's parents to tell them she was missing in action.

 _"You handed it over to a director who betrayed Simmons!"_ The man shouted at him. He was older now. The line of his jaw was sharper, outlined with a layer of subtle.

He continued to yell until anger gave away to despair.

 _"She's out there alone,"_ he moaned. _"And I'm gone."_

In this memory, Coulson drew close to Fitz and promised him that they would get back to her.

He was ripped from the tide of recollection by a strangled yell. Fitz launched himself at AIDA, his hands going for her throat.

 **II.**

AIDA's mouth opened and closed as she struggled for breath, but the hands around her neck were unrelenting.

"You made me _love_ you!" Fitz growled. With each word, his fingers pressed deeper into her flesh. "I shared a bed with you! I killed for you! You made me forget _her_!"

May aimed her weapon at the pair. Every muscle in her body was tensed, and something in the back of her mind screamed at her to stop him. But why should she? If Fitz took care of AIDA, it was one less problem for them. All she had to do was stop her from wriggling away.

 _"He doesn't want to do this,"_ that voice inside her protested. _"He's not a killer."_

She was frozen in indecision, unable to do anything but watch her former boss struggle in the grasp of the man who come undone with one look at Jemma Simmons.

When she heard the muffled steps of combat boots on the wooden floor in the hallway, May allowed herself a small exhalation of relief.

Finally.

Mack and Mace.

The cavalry had arrived.

"Doctor, I need you to back away from Madame Hydra," a voice directed.

May's sigh turned into a groan and her eyes narrowed. She knew that cocky tone. It was not Mack or Mace.

Fitz released his grip on AIDA with a shove and held his hands aloft.

AIDA recovered with a cough and a semblance of a smile.

"Agent Ward," she greeted the newcomer.

Ward nodded to her and turned the corner, gun first, taking in each of the room's occupants in turn.

"Oh you have got to be kidding," Daisy spat, echoing May's sentiments. "What? Is there just a line of bad guys waiting outside the door? Who else is with you? Bakshi? Daniel Whitehall?"

"What?" Ward asked, genuinely confused.

"What are you doing here, Ward?" She asked. Every syllable was punctuated with irritation.

"Mace and Mack invited me along for the ride," he said. "I _am_ one of the most trusted agents in the Resistance."

"What did you do to them?" May asked.

Ward shrugged, keeping his gun trained on her.

"Nothing they won't recover from," he replied. "We are on the same side, after all. Aren't we? Skye?"

Daisy shrank back slightly. She looked like she was going to be sick. May's finger itched on the trigger of her gun.

Ward glanced at May and made a decision. He held up his hands, holding the grip of his weapon between his thumb and four flat fingers, and pointed the barrel towards the ceiling in a gesture of surrender.

"I know everything, Skye," he said, taking a step toward her. "About AIDA, The Framework, about where it is you come from. I gotta tell you, it was a lot to take in."

"Stop moving," May ordered.

Ward spared her a sideways glare, but obeyed, stopping arms' length from Daisy.

"I want you to know, I don't care about that," he insisted.

For all he was concerned, Daisy might have been the only person in the room. If he continued to operate under that assumption, May planned to land a blow to his skull that would quickly disabuse him of the delusion.

"Of course you don't care about that, Ward," Daisy snapped. "You're a piece of code! You're _designed_ to love me. I could murder your whole family and you wouldn't care! If you hadn't gotten to them first, that is."

Ward frowned.

"So what if I am?" He asked rhetorically. "It's real to me! What I feel for you? That's real."

Daisy shook her head and gave him her most saccharine smile.

"I'm sure you think that," she said. "But I just don't care.

Ward pursed his lips and nodded.

May cursed herself as the ex-Hydra specialist swiveled in her direction before she could react. Ward wrenched the Beretta out of her hand, nearly breaking her wrist in the process. He stared Daisy and May down, with a gun in each hand.

"Well, I love you, Skye," he declared triumphantly. "And I'd have you under any circumstance. I don't need for you to love me back."

* * *

When Ward attacked May, AIDA used the distraction to seize her chance. She dug her fingers into Fitz's shoulder and yanked him toward her. By the time Coulson pulled out his weapon, she had him in a chokehold pinned against her chest.

"No!" Jemma yelled.

Coulson glanced over his shoulder at the standoff between Ward, May, and Daisy, then down the barrel of his gun to where Fitz clawed helplessly at the arm that cut off his oxygen.

"Jemma, go," Coulson commanded.

"What?" She shouted.

"Go find Mace and Mack," he said, not taking his eyes off AIDA.

"But, Sir," she protested.

"That's an order, Jemma!"

He waited until after she had squeezed between the doorframe and AIDA and he could hear her retreating steps before he advanced on the android and her captive.

"Let him go," he said calmly. "You don't want to do this."

AIDA tightened her grip and Fitz's face flushed from pink to vermilion. She combed the short hair at his temple gently with the fingers of her free hand.

"I don't want to," she agreed. "But I could. That's how I was built. Just one twist and I could sever his spine, right between C4 and 5. It would be quick and clean. He would barely feel it."

Coulson thought his ribs would break, his heart was hammering so hard against them. Somehow, he managed to hold the gun steady and kept his breathing even.

"You feel it, don't you?" She asked. "Spikes in dopamine and adrenaline flooding your peripheral nervous system. Telling you to fight or run. That's how _you_ were built, Agent Coulson. When you don't do either, all of those neurotransmitters saturate your adrenergic synapses. They cause pain. Fear. Doubt."

She was not wrong.

Every second he did not move, his nerves became more frayed. His arms felt like they were on fire.

"This is how you felt every day in the other world," AIDA explained with sickly-sweet sympathy. "When you sent them out on missions and could not protect them. When they were hurt or taken from you. You don't have to feel that way ever again. It's not too late."

The gun suddenly felt very heavy in his hand.

* * *

"You're not taking her out of here, Ward," May snarled.

"Looks like you don't have much of a choice in the matter," he replied, emphasizing his point by aiming the gun in his right hand at her head.

"Luckily, it's not up to her," Daisy said.

She dropped to one knee and swept at Ward's heel with her other leg. Momentarily knocked off balance, his aim on May wavered. As his hand flew upward, May rushed him, bending his right arm back and yanking the gun from his grasp, sending it clattering across the floor.

Ward recovered quickly and pivoted towards her, sending her flying with a knock across the temple with the barrel of the other gun. May brushed the hair out of her eyes in time to see Daisy rise to her feet. She grabbed his left hand and twisted so her back was facing him. With a muffled grunt, she threw all of her weight forward. Ward landed on his back, looking up to see Daisy pointing the gun at his face.

May smiled. She had taught her well.

Ward seemed to think so too.

"Not bad, Skye!" He gasped. "But you're making the same mistake you always do."

Daisy rolled her eyes.

"Really?" She asked. "What's that?"

Ward's hand shot up and grabbed her hand and the gun along with it. With a sharp tug, he flipped her over and she hit the floor beside him. He jack-knifed to his feet and casually pointed the gun at her.

"You're getting too close to your target."

May had had about all of Ward she could stand. While he was distracted with his posturing, she crawled over and retrieved the fallen firearm.

Ward lowered his weapon and extended his hand to Daisy.

"Come on, Skye," he said. "This was fun, but play time is over. Let's get out of here, huh? Just the two of us?"

Daisy managed to keep her eyes on Ward while May sneaked up behind him.

She flipped the Beretta in her hand and caught it by the handle. She held nothing back when slammed the handle into the side of his jaw. Ward hit the ground with a satisfying clunk.

"Looks like you were right," she said, pulling Daisy to her feet.

Daisy winced and brushed herself off.

"Right?" She repeated. "About what?"

"He did 'kinda have it coming,'" May replied.

She drew back the slide and pointed the gun at the unconscious traitor at her feet.

Daisy put her hand on May's arm.

"Don't," she managed through heavy breaths. "There's no point. We'll be out of here soon enough and we'll dismantle the Framework. He'll be just as gone either way."

* * *

"If you'll let me," AIDA continued. "I can reboot the whole program. You'll go back to your life, never remembering all of this has happened. You can be happy, Agent Coulson. Isn't that what you want?"

Coulson looked over this shoulder to where Daisy and May stood over the still form of Grant Ward, then back to the boy struggling in AIDA's grasp.

"It won't work," he said simply.

AIDA's mouth became a thin line.

"Of course it will."

He shook his head.

"You couldn't erase them the first time," he replied. "They were always there, even if they were only fragments and dreams."

Fitz grew still. He stopped fighting and focused on the man in front of him.

"Whatever pain I felt in the real world, whatever fear, it was worth it," Coulson said. "They were worth it. It doesn't matter what you do, I'm never forgetting them again."

AIDA's brow furrowed. In that moment of uncertainty, her hold on Fitz weakened just a fraction. Coulson watched as the man took a deep breath of air and drove his elbow into AIDA's solar plexus with all of his strength.

Fitz twisted out of her grip and drew a gun from his ankle holster. He took a step forward and held it under AIDA's chin.

"Fitz!" Coulson barked. "Think about what you're doing."

He saw a sliver of blue when Fitz glimpsed at him from the corner of his eye.

"I am," He replied.

"Leopold," AIDA pleaded. "Fitz… why would you do this? Everything I did, everything I am, it's because of you and Dr. Radcliffe. You taught me. You made me who I am."

In spite of everything she had done, everything she had cost him, Coulson felt the tiniest stab of remorse. If everything Daisy and Simmons told him about AIDA was true, then she was nothing more than an empty vessel, ready to be filled with whatever programming or experiences that she was indoctrinated with. She was a child with no conscience, only logic. But the world was not logical, and there was no place for her in it.

"Then I'm sorry I wasn't a better teacher," Fitz murmured. "But this is one regret I don't have to live with."

The bang of the gunshot deafened everyone in the cabin room. May and Daisy whirled around to see AIDA slump to the ground. Fitz's gun made a hollow thunk when it slipped from his fingers to the wooden floor.


	7. Epilogue

Mace regarded the red headset in his hands with suspicion.

"So how is this supposed to work?" He asked.

"We're not entirely sure," Jemma admitted.

She had found Mack and Mace passed out from a tranquilizer in the parked van on the other side of the cabin. When she was finally able to rouse them and lead them to the cabin, they were still groggy, but lucid enough to survey the damage with matching expressions of disbelief.

Ward, the man who drugged them, was tied up and slumped over in a corner of the room. Madame Hydra lay in a heap by the door with an exit wound from a bullet in the top of her skull. The rest of the team, including the infamous Doctor Fitz himself, stood around an open cabinet in the far wall of the room, studying a device that Jemma Simmons claimed would transport all of them back to the "real world."

"If it works like the transcranial apparatus in our world, you just put it on like a regular headset and you'll wake up in your old body," Jemma explained.

"And what happens to our bodies here?" Mack asked.

"Only one way to find out, I guess," Mace replied.

Mack stopped him when he raised the headset to put it in place.

"Hey, are you sure about this?" He asked. "If they're right, this whole world and everything you've ever fought for, it's been for nothing."

Mace scowled and brought a hand to Mack's shoulder.

"Fighting for what's right is never for nothing," he stated with certainty. "What we do matters, whether anyone knows about it or not. Or actions shape us, Mack. They make us who we are."

"Besides," he added, placing the foam padding of the device over his ears. "This is my chance to be the first to take a step into a new world. What kind of American hero would I be if I didn't leap at the opportunity?"

Mack grinned reluctantly at The Patriot's enthusiasm. There was a reason he had made such an effective leader in the Resistance. Everyone was willing to follow a man who would not ask anything of his team that he would not do himself.

"Good luck, Jeffrey," Coulson said.

Mace nodded solemnly and the team stood back and watched as the body of The Patriot dissolved before them like a distant mirage. With nothing left to support their weight, the headset fell in mid-air where Mack caught it.

"So, that's it, huh?" Mack asked. "Everything, everyone we've known here, it's all been a lie?"

"We're not a lie, Mack," Daisy answered softly. "And trust me, you've got someone waiting for you on the other side who is going to be very anxious to see you."

"Yeah?"

Jemma nodded.

"She'll probably be mad you kept her waiting as long as you did," she added.

Mack swallowed and put on the headset. When his body disappeared, the headset clunked to the floor. Jemma picked them up and looked around.

"Who's next?" She asked.

Her eyes settled on Fitz.

The young man had not said a word since he fired the shot that ended AIDA's existence. His arms were folded and he stared resolutely at the floor. Still, he was unable to ignore Jemma's persistent stare.

His head snapped up and he held out his hand.

"I'll go."

Jemma fiddled with the device uncertainly, reluctant to send him back while he was in such a state.

"Fitz, it's—

"Whatever you're about to say, Jemma, don't," he said, finally looking up at her. His blue eyes were shot through with streaks of red and Jemma winced at seeing him in so much pain. "It's not okay. It's not going to be fine. What I've done in here… it can't be forgiven. I know that."

"That's not true," May contradicted. "What AIDA made you do, it's not your fault."

Fitz nodded.

"Not all of it," he agreed. "But enough."

Jemma let out a shaky sigh and handed over the apparatus. Fitz's fingers grazed hers as he took it from her.

"But I won't stop trying to make it right, Jemma," he said. "I promise."

Fitz's body dissolved and only the four of them were left.

"He'll be alright," Daisy tried to reassure Jemma. "It'll take time. But he'll be alright."

Jemma could only smile unconvincingly at the sentiment. She knew it would be a long time indeed before Fitz was the man she remembered from before the Framework.

"Right," she said, turning to face May and Coulson. "Remember what we told you."

"You aren't in the same place as we are in the real world," Coulson recited. "So wait until you arrive to try to leave."

"What are we supposed to do while we wait?" May asked.

"Try and stay alive," Daisy answered.

"Seriously," Jemma insisted, seeing May's raised eyebrow. "Things in the real world are… complicated.

"When are they not?" May muttered.

When Jemma was gone, Daisy stepped forward.

"It'd better be me next," she said. "She's gonna need my help getting to you guys when she wakes up."

She picked up the headset, but instead of putting it on, she turned to Coulson. She surprised him by stepping into his arms and squeezing him around the middle. Coulson exchanged a bemused look with May over the girl's head and returned her embrace.

"Thank you," she muttered against his chest.

"For what?" He replied. "You guys did most of the work."

"For everything," Daisy said. "For believing us."

"For protecting us," she added, glancing around his shoulder at May.

Coulson pressed his lips to the part in her hair.

"You're welcome, Daisy."

She beamed at the two of them and raised the device to place it on her head.

"Daisy," May stopped her. "I—I'm sorry. For turning you in. For letting you get caught. I should have done better."

"It's okay, May," Daisy said. "If anything, this makes us even."

"Even?" May repeated. "How?"

"Oh, one time I threw you across a courtyard in an Inhuman sanctuary in the Himalayas. I thought you were trying to kill my biological mom," she explained matter-of-factly. "It was a whole thing…"

Daisy grinned at May's slack-jawed incredulity and jammed the headphones on her head.

"Anyway," she added. "It's water under the bridge. Stay safe, you guys! See you soon!"

Coulson picked up the fallen headset and eyed them with a rueful grin.

"Guess it's our turn," He said.

May nodded and crossed her arms.

"Who do you think we are in there, Phil? Really?"

Coulson colored slightly at the use of his first name. He liked the way she said it. It sounded right.

"Well," he considered. "According to Daisy and Jemma, I'm a teacher, leader, and the most effective and fearless director in the history of SHIELD."

"Yeah," she agreed. "I feel like we are getting set up for disappointment."

She had to smile at how crestfallen Coulson looked at her quick dismissal of Daisy and Jemma's appraisal.

"Whatever it's like over there, it's got to be better than this place," May amended.

"This world wasn't that terrible," he disagreed. "Not at the end. At least we were all together."

May smiled. He was right about that. The whole world had seemed a lot less bleak with him and the rest of her team in it. All the empty spaces inside of her she did not even realize were there had started to fill up again. As long as the real world had them in it, it would be alright with her.

Coulson considered the headset in hands and then looked back at her.

"I'm right behind you," she promised.

He settled the device over his ears and reached out to squeeze her hand.

"See you on the other side, Melinda."

The warmth of his touch on her hand evaporated along with his body. May caught the headset before it fell to the floor.

 _"Melinda."_

She smiled.

She could not remember the last time she had willingly let someone call her that. As she put the Framework apparatus in place and the world dissolved around her, she decided that she could get used to hearing it more often.

* * *

 **Thanks so much for reading and commenting! I hope you enjoyed it!**


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